More Than I Deserve
by christmasinacup
Summary: AU: Joan & Arthur are operatives who are Annie & Auggie's age (and both single). Arthur is a brilliant case officer and Joan's fight skills are off the charts, so when they combine, things begin to fall into place. However, with strengths come weaknesses; Joan fell into the Agency because she felt lost & purposeless in life, and Arthur comes from a severely damaged family.
1. Deer In The Headlights

Eyes meet from across the room. The first thing that comes to mind is, "Wow. That is the most beautiful person in the universe." He smiles, and you smile back. Maybe you wave. That feeling bubbles up in your chest of a new beginning, and then you both look away shyly. You know he felt it, too.

Sounds like how every girl in every movie usually meets her true love, right?

Well, Joan Andrews met hers by spilling coffee on him.

"Oh my god!"

The warm brown liquid goes flying as the lid pops off of her latte. It soaks the front of his shirt, complete wrecking his tie.

"Crap, I am so sorry," Joan frets, dabbing at his shirt with her napkin. She looks up, flustered, and sees his eyes. Deep blue, and piercing. He looks amused.

"It's okay," he assures her, looking down. He lowers his voice. "I actually really hate this tie."

She looks at it. It's striped, with various shades of green, the most prominent being a swampy brown-green color. It's quite ugly.

She laughs nervously. "Um, yeah. It's.."

"Hideous? Yeah, I know. My mother gave it to me."

Joan smiles. He's that kind of guy. She's about to open her mouth, maybe tease him in a flirty way, when someone on the other side of the bullpen yells, "Campbell!"

"That's me," he says, placing his hand on her shoulder for a brief second. She nods, and he walks past her.

"Catch you later, coffee."

She stands there smiling until someone waves a hand in front of her face.

"Joan? Hell-oo?"

Joan shakes her head and comes out of her reverie, eyes snapping to the person in front of her.

"Hey, Annie."

Annie frowns. "Are you okay? You have coffee on your blouse."

Joan looks down. It's not as bad as his, but sure enough, her light blue button down has some brown spots.

"C'mon," Annie says, grabbing Joan's arm. Joan dumps her now-empty coffee cup in a nearby trash can and follows Annie out the DPD door.

Annie sits on the bathroom counter and turns on the water, while Joan un-tucks her shirt from her black pencil skirt and inspects it.

"So, someone's got a crush," Annie says with a mischievous glint in her eye as she hands Joan a damp paper towel. Joan blushes.

"You saw?"

"I was in Auggie's office, we saw it all. Well, I did, and I recounted it to him."

Joan groans. "Great. I bet I looked like an idiot."

"Only a little bit," Annie says gently, taking Joan's used paper towel from her and handing her another one. Joan sighs, dabbing at her shirt. The stains are lighter, but still there.

"So," Annie says casually, watching her friend tuck her shirt back in. "Who is he?"

Joan looks at her. "I don't know... someone Campbell."

Annie snorts. "Nice."

"Annie, he was so sweet," Joan said, leaning against the counter and smiling. She closes her eyes. "He was wearing a tie his mom gave him."

"That you doused in double vanilla latte," Annie pointed out, getting off the counter. Joan sighs.

"Whatever. He's that kind of guy, you know? The sensitive kind who wears things his mother gives him, even if he thinks they're ugly. He's the opposite of Seth."

"Okay, fundamental girl rule: you cannot compare a guy to your ex if you don't even know his first name," Annie says with a laugh. She and Joan head back to the DPD, Joan still thinking about him. Her volatile, drug-dependent relationship with Seth ended 8 months ago, but sometimes, she still felt drawn back to it. But when she saw coffee guy's kind smile, she knew that she was over Seth, once and for all. No more drugs, no more waking up hungover, and no more fights ending in tears. Stable and loving, that's what her next relationship would be. And she had this gut feeling that she could have that with this guy.

Right before they walk back into the bullpen, Joan grabs her friend's arm and pulls her to the side.

"Will you find out who he is?"

"Really? Joan, it's not 8th grade." Annie sighs, knowing she'll do it no matter what she says. Joan throws in a slight pout and Annie throws her hands up in defeat.

"Okay."

"Thank you," Joan says, wrapping her arms around Annie in a quick hug. She winks at her, and then they walk back into the bullpen. Joan heads to Auggie's office, and Annie goes back to her desk.

"Oh, Joan! Allen's tonight with me and Auggie?," Annie asks, turning around after walking only a few steps. Joan nods and smiles.

"Auggie?" Joan knocks on the doorframe, watching the tech op slide his fingers over his Braille keyboard. He looks up, a goofy grin on his face.

"Hey. I head about the coffee."

"Shut up," she says, swatting his shoulder. He laughs.

"I'll let you tell me the details tonight at Allen's. You're coming, right?"

"Where else would I be on a weeknight? And who else would I be with? You guys are my only friends, remember?"

"Oh, stop being so self-pitying," Auggie says. "You're not a lost puppy."

Joan laughs, but she still does feel like the lost puppy she was 3 years ago. She was moving through life with no true purpose, and then she was at a bar, with a co-worker (she worked at the Gap) who pointed to a cluster of guys and whispered something about them being spooks. Joan applied to Camp Perry a week later.

"Plus, maybe one day in the future, you'll have coffee boy." Now he's smirking, and Joan shoots a foul look at him. But she is grateful for him, because he always keeps her grounded and calm.

"Frowning at you right now," she says, walking out of his office. She hears him laugh.

"See you at 6!"

Joan smiles to herself as she sits down at her desk, a few yards away from Annie's, and starts sifting through a stack of Nicaraguan newspapers. Level 4 Spanish may be awesome, but when your division is a relatively new one and the few multi-lingual people (like Annie) know a lot more than the average Spanish and French, you get stuck with all the Spanish newspapers. And op-eds. And health codes (don't ask).

Later that night, Joan sits at a table on the patio at Allen's with Auggie. Annie said she had "a few things to do," so Joan drove Auggie and her to the bar, and ordered a beer the second she arrived.

"Slow down, tiger," Auggie comments. Joan looks at her half-empty beer and laughs.

"How do you do that?"

"It's lighter when you set it on the table, which you've only done once since we got here."

Joan tucks her hair behind her ears. "It's been a hell of a day."

"Oh?"

"Yep. Sorenson sent me an email saying he wants me in his office at 8 am sharp tomorrow morning to give me an assignment."

"You love the travel part of the job almost as much as Annie does," he says, confused. Joan sighs.

"Yeah, but he said I'll be partnering with an operative who is more skilled at bringing in assets."

"Well, that doesn't mean anything. They're probably just a few years older, maybe they have more experience."

"Yeah, or they're an asshole. Sorenson doesn't like me." Joan is referring to their boss, who she swears stop liking her after she asked him to stop hitting on her.

"No man likes to be shot down before the game ever starts."

"Ew," Joan crinkles her nose and takes another swig of beer.

"Hello, party people," Annie chirps, sliding into the seat next to Joan. She flags a waiter and orders a beer.

"Hey," Joan says glumly. Annie looks at Auggie.

"What's with her?"

"Getting a new assignment tomorrow, and she's convinced her partner in crime will be a dick, because Sorenson is still mad that she asked him to stop staring at her chest."

"And legs," Joan adds. She polishes off her beer and grabs another one. Annie just smiles.

"Well, I have a present for you, so stop being moody." She hands Joan a piece of paper folded in half. Joan unfolds it and sees _his_ face. The guy with the insanely perfect blue eyes.

"Arthur Campbell," Annie says, mostly for Auggie's benefit. "30 years old, and got recruited for the DPD when it formed due to his impressive rate at bringing in assets. He's from Brooklyn, and excelled at student government in high school. Oh, and he has an affinity for Scotch."

Joan looks up from the file, grinning. "Thanks, Annie."

"No problem," she says, sipping her beer. Joan drops the file into her purse and chats with her friends, trying to think of the best way to start a conversation with Arthur tomorrow.

* * *

I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of what I think is the most fun, challenging, unique story I have ever written about Joan & Arthur! Just for future reference, every chapter will be named after a song. The whole story is "More Than I Deserve " by Christian Kane, and this chapter is "Deer in the Headlights" by Owl City! Anyways, review & let me know what you think!


	2. Rumour Has It

This song for this chapter is Adele's "Rumour Has It." Look for a longer AN at the end, and enjoy! :)

* * *

Joan spent 45 minutes the next morning trying to pick out the perfect outfit, only to end up with the first one she had picked out: a silky white cap-sleeve blouse tucked into a charcoal gray pencil skirt, with black ballet flats (to decrease her chance of tripping) and the delicate silver "J" necklace she had worn everyday since her 21st birthday, when her sisters gave it to her.

She smiled at herself in the mirror and tousled her hair, attempting to pull of that "sexy bedhead" look. Instead, her hair just got tangled. Joan laughed at herself and brushed her straight blonde hair, parting it to the side and tugging on the bangs she was trying to grow out. She wasn't used to dressing to impress a guy, but something about Arthur intrigued her. She just had to stage the perfect run-in... she hadn't planned it yet, but she would after her meeting with Sorenson.

This was as it as it was going to get. She grabbed her purple Mac Jacobs shoulder bag (yet another gift from her sisters; she wasn't the type to buy fancy bags) and headed out the door of her apartment, strapping on her watch as she made her way down the stairs. She only lived on the fourth floor, so she usually tried to use the stairs instead of the elevator, to get a bit of exercise. Not that she needed it. Joan was in perfect shape, from the martial arts classes she had taken since she was 12 and the Krav Maga she started in college. Add in pilates, weekly runs, and the occasional hike, and she was extremely fit.

By the time Joan's black Volvo pulled into the Agency parking lot, she was very nervous. She almost reached into her purse for a pill box, out of habit, but then stopped. Instead, she pulled out her Ralph Lauren "Romance" perfume rollerball and dabbed it on her wrists and neck.

The rest was a blur; walk inside, go through security, get in the elevator, lock bag in desk drawer, go to Sorenson's office. She was 3 minutes early, and although she hated the idea of any time alone with her creepy boss, she wanted to show dedication.

"Joan, good morning," Sorenson said gruffly. He wasn't totally disgusting – he was in his mid-50s, still had most of his hair and wasn't fat or skinny, but average. Joan just hated being objectified in the workplace – it made her feel like she wasn't valued for anything more than her appearance.

"Hello," she said, a pleasant smile on her face. She glanced at her watch. 8:01 am.

"Good morning!"

Joan turned to the doorway and used all her restraint to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. It was Arthur. He saw Joan and smiled in surprise.

"Coffee."

"Joan," she said, blushing. She held her hand out and he shook it. His hands were soft.

Sorenson cleared his throat, bored. "So, I guess you two don't know each other. Joan, this is Arthur Campbell. He will be running point on this operation. Arthur, this is Joan Andrews, one of our most skilled combat fighters."

Joan normally would have cringed at Sorenson kiss-ass compliment, but she knew it was actually true, so she just smiled. Arthur raised any eyebrow.

"Pretty and has a good right hook?"

"Actually, my best punches are aimed at the throat," Joan said casually, making eye contact for a few seconds. Arthur looked impressed.

"Krav maga," he whispered under his breath. "Hot."

"Campbell, why don't you explain the mission to Miss Andrews here? You seem chatty this morning." Sorenson seemed bored and ticked off, probably because Arthur was actually succeeding in flirting with Joan, unlike him.

Arthur smiled boyishly and handed Joan a file from off the desk. She flipped it open and quickly scanned the first page.

"Isabel Collins is a 22-year-old secretary from London who works for a prominent real estate developer," Arthur started. Joan looked at the picture. Isabel was pretty, with long dark hair and chocolate-brown eyes.

"Now, at night she is a stripper in downtown London. One of her biggest clients, Jack Moreau, is a dirty business man who likes to sneak weapons into his wine shipments."

Joan raised her eyebrow. "So he's sophisticated, at least."

Arthur chuckled. "Well, it seems he shares that sophistication with someone here in DC, because we've been hearing chatter about Moreau coming across the pond next week for a 2-day visit. We don't know what his business is here, but he has a body trail, and could be more dangerous than he looks." Joan glanced at Moreau's picture. He was devilishly handsome, for sure.

"We need to recruit Isabel as an asset and get as much information form her as possible before Moreau comes stateside. He's been a client of hers for 3 years, and hosts many "private parties" with her as entertainment, so she may have intel on his associates as well."

Joan nodded. "So what's our play?"

Arthur winked at her. "I'm a wealthy American looking to dip my toes into the London real estate pool, and you're my personal assistant. There is a man in Moreau's circle, Henry Bennett, who works at the same real estate company as Isabel. We want to keep eyes on him as well."

"Okay, sounds good." Joan closed the file and smiled at Arthur. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning, 3 am."

Joan groaned on the inside, but kept a bright smile on her face. "Guess I'll see you then, Campbell."

"Alrighty," Arthur said with a smile. Joan left the two men to hash out the finer details. The second she reached her desk, Annie came over.

"Hey, how did it go?"

"Arthur is my partner," Joan whispered quietly. She was grinning ear to ear. "Can we talk later though? I have to wrap up a few things and then go home to pack."

"Pack?"

"The mission is in London. Hey, want to help me? You're much better at packing than I am, and I can fill you in."

Annie nodded. "Sure. Leave at 5?"

Joan nodded, and turned to her computer, every bone in her body radiating girly giddiness.

xxxx

Joan arrived home at 5:30. Annie was taking Auggie home, and then coming over to help Joan pack.

Joan tossed her purse onto the lemon-yellow armchair in the corner of her bedroom and flopped down on the bed. Her bedroom was girly and bright, a product of her love for interior design and a 3-day weekend that she, Annie, and her younger sister Lily had spent trying to maximize space in the tiny apartment. Joan didn't have a yard or even communal building garden, so the windowsill was lined with potted plants in pretty ceramic jars. The window was large and provided a not-so-exciting view of the highway from a couple hundred yards away. It was one of three windows in Joan's little space. The others were a small window in the bathroom and one in her kitchen, which looked over a small, drab courtyard.

Joan's favorite part was definitely the bedroom. She had a queen-sized bed with pale blue sheets and a comforter from Anthropologie that had a bubbly watercolor pattern filled with blues, greens, oranges, golds, and purples. She and Annie had made a headboard out of a large square of cardboard with a sheet of foam on top, wrapped in a deep lilac cotton fabric. The same fabric had been made into two pillows that sat on the yellow armchair, found at an antique shop. The walls were exposed brick, and Joan didn't want to take on the task of painting them, so she left them alone. She had a desk on the right-hand wall a few feet away from her closet that doubled as a vanity. A large mirror in a pretty frame hung on the wall above it, another antique find. The opposite wall was empty except for a few tarnished white coat hooks and framed pictures of family. There was also a movie poster for 'Rear Window,' Joan's favorite movie.

Joan's closet didn't have a door, so she covered the doorway with billowy cream curtains with a delicate gold pattern. She pulled the curtains back and secured them in their flower-shaped tie-backs. She had to go up on her tip-toes to pull her suitcase off a shelf above her dresses, but she got it down. She set it on the bed and went back into her closet to pull out plastic bags for her shoes.

Joan heard the front door open.

"Hey!," Annie called from the front entrance hallway. "The door was open."

"Yeah," Joan said from the closet. She emerged and found Annie standing in her bedroom, holding a paper bag. She had a smug grin on her face.

"You might want to be more careful," Annie teased, handing Joan the bag. "You are a spy, you know."

Joan laughed and peered inside. She pulled out several bags of gummy bears and a paperback copy of the first Twilight book.

"Snacks and teen fiction?"

"For the plane," Annie said with a smile. "And don't knock it til you read it. It's actually pretty good."

Joan tossed the back on the bed and gave her friend a quick hug. "Thanks, Annie."

"No problem. So, what's the op?"

"Posing as a real estate tycoon's personal assistant."

Annie nodded. "Okay, so we need to go professional-chic, with a bit of sex appeal. Maybe a cocktail dress or two…"

Joan shot her a look. "Why the sex appeal?"

Annie winked at Joan and then headed for the closet. "You tell me."

Joan laughed and followed Annie, butterflies in her stomach.

Two hours later, Joan and Annie had packed Joan's suitcase as efficiently as possible. A few blouses, flannel pajamas, both heels and flats, some "professional chic" outfits. Joan had insisted that she pack her favorite sweater dress, but Annie had nixed it for two sexier cocktail dress: a black lace number with long sleeves and a swingy skirt, and a sapphire blue strappy Alice + Olivia dress with a low neckline.

"Okay, I think that's everything," Annie said. She sat down on the bed as Joan zipped the suitcase closed, then flopped down next to Annie.

"So, you and Arthur in London, mixing it up with the wealthy upper-class community of real estate investors and wine nerds."

Joan laughed. "He'll fit in just fine."

"I know, I saw the file." Annie paused. "And I've heard the gossip too. Be careful, okay? Keep your head on tight."

"Have I ever been distracted in the field?," Joan asked. Annie shook her head.

"No. But think about your partner."

Joan nodded and they both sat up. "I will, promise."

"Okay. Be safe, alright?"

Annie hugged Joan, and they sat in silence for a moment. Before the tone could get too serious, Annie pulled apart from Joan and grinned.

"And I want a full report," she said, her eyes twinkling.

"On the op?," Joan asked, pretending to be innocent. Annie swatted her shoulder.

"You're totally crushed out on this guy. London, posing as elite business people, those dresses we packed… if nothing happens, I might have to re-evaluate if I know you as well as I thought I did."

Joan blushed. "We'll see."

Annie left, and Joan picked out her outfit for the next day. Straight-leg jeans, a red silk blouse with floral cutout neckline, a cream cardigan, and a gray peacoat. Just another chic American personal assistant. With an extremely sexy boss.

* * *

I love writing Joan as a slightly awkward young agent! Very fun And then there's Arthur, the playful young hotshot with a sensitive side. I also like to visualize while I write, so I browsed the "home" section of the Anthropologie website. Here are Joan's things:

_Bedding – "Pilar" set_

_Throw pillows – "rosette round pillow" in lavender_

_Armchair – "linen Corrigan" chair in ochre_

_Coat hooks – "metropolitan hook"_

_Jars for her plants – "pretty pansy" & "rose of Sharon grand" vases_

_Curtains – "Marrakech" curtains in gold_

Not from Anthro:

_More plants – "laboratory flower vases" from Urban Outfitters_

_Tie-backs – "fleur" curtain tie-back, also from UO_

_Mirror – "Isla carved mirror" from World Market_


	3. How You Remind Me

The song for the chapter is Avril Lavigne's cover of the Nickelback song "How You Remind Me." My love affair with Avril has been steady since I was 8 years old, and this version is just so beautiful. Enjoy!

* * *

Joan and Arthur landed in London in the early evening, and the car ride to the hotel was silent.

"So, we don't go to the real estate office until the morning. What do you say we have some fun?," Arthur asked Joan when their cab pulled up to the hotel. She smiled.

"Like what?"

"I know a great club downtown," he said, taking both her bag and his out of the trunk. He paid the driver and led Joan to a chair in the lobby, setting the bags down next to her.

"Wait here for a second, I'm going to check us in."

"Okay." Joan watched Arthur and couldn't help but feel a warm, fuzzy feeling in her stomach.

"You're in 512," Arthur said, walking over to her and tossing her a key card. She nodded, caught it, and stood up.

'Where are you?"

"Room 518, just down the hall." He picked up both of their suitcases and they walked to the elevator.

"So, about that club," Joan said, smiling shyly at Arthur. He grinned.

"You in?"

She nodded. They reached the fifth floor and Arthur walked Joan to her room.

"It's an old-school place, so dress elegantly. We're doing this Campbell-style," he said with a boyish smile as he closed her hotel room door. "Meet you downstairs in 30."

Joan gave him a thumbs-up, and the second he left, she jumped up on the bed and started to do a little happy dance.

She had a sort-of date with Arthur. And she was going to need that blue dress.

xxxx

Blue dress, black stilettos, soft blonde curls, smoky eyes, pink lips. Joan looked herself up and down in the mirror one more time before slipping on her black peacoat.

It wasn't that she hadn't gone on dates before, or that she was prissy. She knew how to let loose, how lose control and have fun. But something about Arthur made her shy and cautious. Like she terrified of messing it up, of making the wrong move. It was fragile and special to her, and she had known him all of 3 days.

She walked down the hall to the elevator slowly, taking deep breaths. When she got to the lobby, he was sitting in a chair by the magnificent fountain. He saw her and smiled, his blue eyes shining. He stood up and held out his arm. Joan took it and smiled.

"Hey."

"Hello."

They walked to the street in silence, and hailed a cab. Arthur gave the address and then smiled at Joan.

"Okay, so don't make fun of me, but this isn't your typical club."

"How do you mean?" _Shit,_ Joan thought. _He's not taking me a strip club or something, is he? Or some other weird sex thing?_

"It's more… traditional. Classic, if you will."

This only puzzled Joan further. But she just smiled and nodded, then spent the next 5 minutes looking out the window. The car stopped, Arthur came around and opened Joan's door for her. He paid their cabbie, and then ushered her down some stairs next to a brick building that appeared to house office space.

The farther down they went, the darker it got. And then suddenly, there was a door. Arthur pulled it open and motioned for Joan to go in. She stepped through the doorway timidly, and gasped.

They were standing in what looked like a room right out of the 1940s. Classy, simple, and elegant. There was a small band in the corner, playing old jazz music. The singer wore a black leather mini-dress and looked like a hip young rockstar, but her voice sounded like Ella Fitzgerald's. People their age and a little older were twirling around the dance floor, or sitting in velvet-y red chairs, sipping champagne. The whole room glowed, as if even the light bulbs were gilded.

"Oh, wow," Joan breathed. "It's stunning. Like something out of a Fitzgerald novel!"

Arthur smiled, some relief on his face. "It's my favorite place in London. Charming, right?"

She grinned and looked at him. "Lovely."

"Here, let me take your coat," Arthur said. Joan un-buttoned the coat and handed it to him. Arthur took it to coat check, all while staring at her.

"You look… wow," he stammered when he got back. She blushed and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Thanks."

The band started to play "Sway," and Arthur took Joan's hand.

"May I have this dance?"

She nodded and smiled, letting Arthur lead her to the dance floor. Everything in the room sparkled, and with every moment, Joan couldn't believe it. She felt like she was in a movie.

When the song ended, Arthur asked if she wanted a drink. She said yes, and sat on one of the velvet loveseats while he got the drinks.

"So," she said when he returned, with a Scotch for him and a glass of champagne for her. Joan smiled to herself, thinking of the file Annie gave her. "How did you find this place?"

He smiled. "My brother. He and I came here for the first time when I was 17. I was looking at colleges, and thought Oxford might be an adventure. A student we met on the campus told us about this place, and we spent every night here for 4 days straight."

"How fun!," Joan said, smiling. "How old is your brother?"

"He's six years older than me, but we're close. Will – that's his name – taught me everything I know about baseball, bullshitting math homework, and women. He's a great guy."

Joan laughed. She had learned similar things from her oldest sister, Catherine. Except it was boys and makeup instead of baseball and women. "Do you guys still talk a lot?"

Arthur nodded. "Once a week. He lives in upstate New York with his wife and his 8-year-old daughter. I actually told him I was in the Agency a few months after I joined, and he was really supportive. Told me to come to him if I ever needed anything, et cetera."

"That's really great," Joan said. She smiled sadly. "I wish I could tell my sisters."

"You have sisters?"

Joan nodded. "Three. One younger, 2 older. But I don't want them to worry about me. They all have families and lives, and I still talk to them. We're a close group, and I don't want to... to screw with the dynamic."

Arthur finished off his Scotch. "I respect that. We have a tough job, and it's up to each individual operative to decide how much they want to disclose to their family."

Joan smiled. "Yeah, that's what I think, too."

They smiled at each other, and for a moment, Joan could swear she saw a flicker of pain in Arthur's eye. He cleared his throat and waved over a waitress.

"Another for each of us, please."

He focused his gaze on Joan, that mischievous smile creeping back onto his face.

"I want to show you something." He took her hand, startling her. She blushed at his touch, but he didn't notice. As they walked around the dance floor, the waitress handed them each a new drink. Arthur led Joan to the back of the room, down a narrow hallway and to a small elevator. He guided her inside and then hit a button that she couldn't see in the dim light.

"Where –"

He shook his head. "Shh. It will be more fun if you don't know til we get there."

Joan smiled, amused, and took a sip of her wine. When the elevator jolted to a stop, Arthur took her hand again and led her out into another tiny hallway, a little better lit than the first. He opened the door at the end of it, and Joan stepped out the door…

… and onto the roof. She gasped. She could see the river Thames, Big Ben, and the London Eye. The city lights glittered in the dark night sky, giving the cool air a magical feel.

"This is… spectacular." She turned to Arthur. "I mean, _wow_."

He nodded, also in awe. "I know, right? I've been up here many times, and it never fails to astound. Makes you want to burst into song, right?"

Joan nodded and smiled at him. "Yeah, actually. I was just thinking that. Something like 'A Whole New World' from Aladdin," she admitted shyly. He grinned.

"My top choice is actually 'City of Blinding Lights' by U2," he said. Joan nodded in agreement.

"Ooh, yes. I love that one!"

Arthur smiled, his eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise. Joan was beginning to realize the look was his trademark.

"You like U2?"

"Of course," Joan said. Her eyes twinkled, matching his. "I'm not stupid."

He let out a hearty laugh, and Joan laughed too, proud of herself for being cute and witty. They watched the city for a little while longer, and then Joan shivered.

"Oh, here," Arthur said, taking off his black blazer and draping it over her shoulders. She smiled. In his gray button-down shirt and jeans, he couldn't have been very warm without it. But he gave it to her.

"Thanks," she whispered. He nodded, and for a moment it felt like something was about to happen. But then Arthur cleared his throat and said, "We should head back to the hotel, there's a lot to do tomorrow."

Joan tried to hide her disappointment. "Yeah," she mumbled. "Let's go."

They made their way back to the club and Joan got her coat. Arthur flagged a cab and they rode back to the hotel and up the elevator in silence. Arthur walked her to her room.

"Thank you for taking me out tonight," Joan said. She smiled at him. "It was extraordinary."

He nodded, and she saw that same smile on his face that she had seen the first time she met him. Genuine, and intrigued.

"I had fun with you, Joan."

She waited for more, but there was none.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow morning," she said quietly. He nodded.

"Our meeting is at 11 am, so meet in the lobby at 10."

"Okay."

He nodded once more and then walked down the hall to his room. Joan swiped her key card, shutting the door and kicking off her heels. She unzipped her dress and tossed it on the small armchair in the corner of the room, and grabbed a slightly oversized black t-shirt from her suitcase, slipping it on over her pale pink strapless bra and her matching panties.

She sat on the floor, back against the bed, and thought over the events of the night. She had sworn there was a spark between her and Arthur, but she wasn't sure if it was a good idea to follow through. At least, not while they were in London.

After Seth, Joan had become very protective of her heart. She didn't just fall into love anymore – she was cautious, maybe too cautious.

But he could have kissed her goodnight just as much as she could have kissed him.


	4. Kill Me

And the mission commences... The song for this chapter is "Kill Me" by The Pretty Reckless. Enjoy, and please leave feedback! :)

* * *

In the morning, Joan dressed in a pair of skinny dark gray pants, black ballet flats, a pale pink long-sleeve shirt, and a black blazer. She added her "J" necklace, another chain with a single pearl bead, and matching pearl earrings.

Arthur was sitting in that same chair in the lobby, reading a newspaper. He was dressed in a well-tailored suit and a trench coat, and Joan's heart flipped a bit in her chest.

She took a deep breath and walked up to him. "Good morning, Arthur," she said casually, sitting down beside him. He folded his paper in half and smiled at her.

"Morning, Joan," he greeted her. The happiness on his face created a warm feeling in her chest.

"So, to the offices of Bennett & Brookington Real Estate," he said, standing up and holding out his hand to Joan. "Ready?"

She nodded. "Yes, let's go."

They took a cab and got out a few streets early, so they could go over the plan without being overheard.

"Okay, so I'm going to stall as much as I can, so you can strike up a conversation with Isabel. See if you can get her to open up. And don't forget to lift her wallet."

Joan nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear to keep it from flapping in the wind.

"Got it."

"Great. We'll come back late tonight and search for Moreau's shipment records. According to some chatter we intercepted, he hides them in Bennett's office."

They arrived in front of the office. Arthur took a deep breath, then glanced at Joan.

"Here goes."

"Good luck, _boss_," Joan said with a wink. Arthur laughed, and followed her into the office.

When they got inside, Joan froze. Isabel wasn't sitting at the receptionist's desk. In her place was a middle-aged woman, with auburn hair in a French twist. Joan shot a glance at Arthur. He looked just as worried as she did. He opened his mouth, but then the woman asked for his name.

"Arthur Campbell," he said firmly, turning to face her. "I have a meeting with Mr. Bennett at 11 am."

"Will the lady be joining you?" She looked at Joan, peering over the tops of her glasses.

"This is my personal secretary, Joan; she will wait out here for me. I won't be long."

Joan nodded and sat down on a couch in the polished, well-decorated office lobby. The auburn-haired woman stood up and went around a corner, most likely to fetch Mr. Bennett.

"Arthur," Joan whispered. He made eye contact and gave her a slight nod.

"What do we do? Where's Isabel?"

"We'll gave to change the plan," Arthur whispered. "Still see what intel you can gather. I'll be out in less than half and hour."

Joan nodded, just as the secretary rounded the corner.

"He's ready for you," she said to Arthur. He nodded and smiled, then went down the hallway she had just come from. Joan picked up an issue of _Elle UK_ and pretended to read, carefully eyeing the receptionist. She was a slow typist, indicating to Joan that she was likely a temp; receptionist work was not her forte. The phone rang twice, and both times she answered, she sounded as if she was reading from a post-it.

Joan had to wait a few minutes to find her opportunity. She cleared her throat and stood up, casually walking to the desk.

"Hi," she said with a smile, resting her elbows on the desk. The woman looked up.

"Hello."

"Do you know what time it is?," Joan asked politely, altering her voice so it was a little more girlish and young. She knew the exact time, because she has just checked her phone. When the woman looked at the computer screen for the time, Joan gave the desk a quick once-over. There were several post-its, as she expected. One had coffee orders on it, cementing Joan's theory in her mind. And the girlish voice? All part of her cover as a young American woman who didn't know much of the business world.

"11:36."

"Thanks you." Joan paused. "I'm not used to this job," she confided, twirling a lock of hair in her fingers and lowering her voice. "There's a lot of sitting around, you know? Waiting, taking notes, making phone calls. But it's just temporary, til I can pay for school."

"Sometimes temporary work is what we need to tide ourselves over during the in-between periods," the woman said, looking at Joan and offering a small smile. "What do you want to study?"

"Art History," Joan said, smiling. "Is this your regular job? We were here 2 months ago, and there was another woman here."

She knew that was a risky statement, but she liked taking these kinds of small risks. It gave her an odd kind of thrill, being able to lie so confidently.

The woman nodded. "Yes. The young woman who usually mans this desk is out for the week, and Mr. Bennett doesn't like to leave the post empty."

"Ah." Joan nodded. "Same with my boss. He is so busy, with so many business endeavors, but his last assistant quit to get married. It's been good money for the last year and a half, but he knows that I don't plan to stay. He just needs help organizing things."

"He seems awfully young for such a wealthy businessman," the woman remarked. Joan nodded.

"He comes from money. You know the wealthy types – instead of cars for their 18th birthdays, they get stocks and property," Joan said, giggling. "He's a very intelligent man, Mr. Campbell. Knows where to put his money, and how to make it grow. It's a great lesson in business, actually."

The woman smiled. "Well, it's nice that you can learn and work at the same time."

"Oh, yes!," Joan said. She laughed. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I'm distracting you. I'll sit back down."

"That's quite alright dear, I enjoy the company."

Joan grinned. "Perfect."

Only a few minutes later, Arthur emerged. Behind in, in the hallway, Joan saw a shadow of Mr. Bennett. She smiled politely and waved goodbye to the secretary, and then she and Arthur walked to the door.

"What do we do?," Joan asked Arthur worriedly once they were a few blocks down the street.

He sighed and looked at her, the most serious person to ever say the next few words: "I guess we're going to a strip club tonight."

xxxx

They had to wait a few hours, so Joan ordered lunch from room service and sat in her hotel room, reading and waiting. Annie had once said that they did a lot of waiting in their job, and Joan knew it was true. Waiting for the next thing, the next mission or directive.

She waited for six hours before changing her clothes. Black lace-up boots, jeans, a gray sweater, and a black peacoat.

Arthur was dressed similarly when they met in the lobby – jeans, black boots, black leather jacket, navy blue shirt. That was another big part of the job: blending in.

"Ready?," he asked her. She nodded.

"The club she works at is about half an hour from here," Arthur said as they walked out of the hotel. "We'll take a cab to a restaurant close by, then walk the rest of the way."

"Okay. Does she go by a stage name?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes. Roxanne."

Joan laughed. "Like the song by The Police."

Arthur turned to her and grinned. "Okay, not fair. A pretty blonde who knows her music, could kick my ass before I even knew what hit me, and acts like going to a strip club is no big deal? Please tell me you have a flaw."

Joan smiled and blushed. "Yeah, sure. I got a D in high school chemistry."

Arthur just shook his head, still grinning. "I knew it!"

They killed some time getting dinner, not going to the club until after 8 pm. It was dimly lit, as expected, and dance music played. Girls danced on table tops and swung around poles, all dressed in tiny black scraps of fabric. Just a typical strip club.

"Let me know if you see her," Arthur whispered to Joan. She nodded and they wove their way to the back of the club, where they each ordered a drink.

It only took a few minutes for Joan to spot their potential asset. Isabel/Roxanne was giving a lap dance to a silver fox with horrible teeth, her hair tied in a sexy bedhead ponytail with a red ribbon. Joan nudged Arthur and pointed her out, and he nodded, a sly smile on his face.

"Watch and learn."

He got up from the bar and sat down at a table a few feet away, casually waving a twenty in the air to catch Isabel's attention. She smiled at him and shimmied over, taking his face in her hands.

"What's your name?," she purred, her face just inches from his. He smiled.

"Arthur."

"Oh, well, Arthur, I'm Roxanne. What can I do for you tonight?"

Arthur gripped her wrist tightly and flashed his sexiest smile. "You can tell me all about Jack Moreau, _Isabel_."

She widened her eyes and tried to pull herself away. "Who the hell are you?"

Arthur said nothing, just raised his eyebrows. Isabel surprised him by wrenching herself out of his grasp. She didn't even take a second look at him before sprinting towards the back of the club and hopping over the bar.

Joan's eyes widened in alarm and she jumped up from her chair, following Isabel over the bar. She pushed through the door leading to the back dressing rooms, Arthur close behind. They ran all the way down the hallway, but the pair of 6-inch platform heels strewn on the steps leading down to the basement door showed that Isabel had definitely increased her head start.

"Shit," Arthur muttered, kicking the door open. He and Joan stepped into the dark, empty alleyway. Joan groaned.

"Great."

Arthur took Joan's wrist. "C'mon. We gotta find her."

Joan nodded, and they jogged down the alley. Arthur found the back door to a bar 3 doors down ajar, and he and Joan crept in.

The bar was loud and rowdy. Men were clanking beer bottles together, groups of girls were laughing and dancing to the heavy rock music. Joan nudged Arthur.

"Arthur, look."

Arthur followed Joan's gaze to a girl with long, tangled blonde hair. She had thrown a loose gray t-shirt dress and denim jacket over her stripper outfit, and taken the red ribbon out of her hair, but it was definitely Isabel.

They walked towards her slowly, but Isabel saw Arthur and panicked. She pushed through the crowd, and in the process, knocked over a tipsy thirty-something guy in an ugly beanie. He fell into Joan, and her reflexes kicked in. She shoved him forward, and gestured to Arthur.

"Follow her! I'll catch up."

He nodded and ran after Isabel. Ugly Beanie Guy finally stumbled up to his feet, and his friends came to his side, rolling up their sleeves. Joan tried to shake it off.

"Hey, I'm so sorry," she said, in the best British accent she could muster. "I'm a bit of klutz."

"Yeah, bitch, I don't think so. You move too fast," one of the friends growled. He put his hand on Joan's shoulder and pushed, hard. Joan sighed and punched him in the throat, then kicked his legs out from under him.

All of a sudden, it was a full-blown bar fight. Joan against 3 half-drunk men, throwing punches and attempting to aim kicks at the groin. A crowd had cleared around them, and the bartender was too lazy to stop it. She got two down, but without noticing, the other had crept up behind her.

A few droplets of beer rolled down her face as he smashed an almost-empty bottle over her head. Joan stumbled backwards, tripping over a stool. She landed on her back and slammed her head against the dirty concrete floor.

Arthur must have lost Isabel again, because he pushed his way through the crowd.

"Hey, get back! Move!"

He knelt beside her and put his hand on her cheek. Her eyelashes fluttered and she mumbled, "Arthur?"

She could only see shapes moving in front of her, and she could barely hear, but she made out Arthur's voice.

"Hey… yeah, you… hand me… the bottle… painkillers…"

Joan tried to shake her head, but she was groggy. "No…. I can't…"

But he didn't hear her. He tipped the pills down her throat, and everything faded to black.


	5. Ghost In The Machine

This chapter is based off the song "Ghost in the Machine" by B.O.B. & is a flashback to Joan's college days & the start of her drug abuse. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

"Dude, that's nasty!"

"Ohmygod, he said _what_?!"

"I cannot fucking believe that I signed up for Calculus 3, I'm such a moron…"

Joan tried, but hard as she could, she couldn't block out the noise in the courtyard. She liked Penn State a lot, but after 2 months, she was still pretty much a loner. She didn't know who she wanted to be in life, but she wasn't sure if she was going to figure it out sitting by herself in the yard, reading Crime & Punishment for her Advanced Literature class. She tugged on her bangs and pulled her long blonde hair into a ponytail, still reading intently.

"Hey, you look lonely."

Joan looked up, fixing her gray-blue eyes on the guy who had joined her on her bench. He was handsome in a scruffy way, with curly black hair, stubble on his cheeks, and a dirty white t-shirt with cigarette burns. His jeans were tucked into combat boots messily, and he was smiling at her.

"You're way too pretty to be sitting alone," he continued. He held out his hand.

"Trent."

She smiled and shook it. "Joan."

"You want to go to a party tonight, Joan?"

"Um," she bit her lip. She wasn't one to accept invites from total strangers, especially ones who had hit on her before even introducing themselves. He laughed.

"Relax. It's not that kind of party. Those frat losers and jocks think they know how to party, but they don't. What we do is much more fun."

He stood up and gestured for her to join him. She slung her bag over her shoulder, stuffing her book in it.

"Who's 'we' ?," she asked, walking with him.

"My friends. We're sort of a mismatched group, but we're a hell of a good time. I'm a junior, are you a freshman?"

She nodded. "Yeah. And I'd… I'd love to go."

"Great." He pulled a small notebook and a stub of a pencil out of his back pocket, scrawling down an address.

"This is my buddy's JT's apartment, he lives just a few blocks off campus," he said, handing her the paper. "See you later."

Joan stood right there, her lace-up boots glued to the cement. She was intrigued, and really had nothing to lose.

xxxx

So maybe she hadn't been right about having nothing to lose. Not that you can exactly define what a drug addiction does to a person in terms of loss. More in terms of messiness. And Joan made her life into a pretty big mess.

That party was the start of it all. Trent and JT's friends were people with names like Avril and Sidney and Rainn, go-with-the-flow people. The people who didn't fit in, or care if they fit in. They created a niche for themselves and didn't worry about being accepted.

She didn't start that night – it took her a few weeks. Trent had been right, his friends were a hell of a good time. And no one pressured her. The sad truth was that Joan got there all on her own. By the end of the year, painkillers were her after-breakfast snack. And Trent was her afternoon one. Joan had never been this girl – loose and wild – but the numbness that the pills, sex, and smoky atmosphere set to punk rock music provided the simple escape she had always craved without actually knowing it.

Until she woke up at 4 in the afternoon about a year and a half later, in an oversized White Stripes t-shirt with a half-naked Trent next to her. There were glass bottles scattered on the floor, and a bottle of pills was spilled out on the bedside table. Joan had a headache that was absolutely _killing_ her.

Dark circles under her eyes matched the dark state of mind she had been living in. Her cell phone was frequently filled with unread texts from her sisters, unanswered emails alerting her about imminent midterms and the psychology class she had failed the semester before. Her voice was raspy, and she had some nasty bruises on her legs from tripping over furniture in her various drugged-out states. There was a fresh cut on her cheek, from the glass bottle that she and Trent had apparently taken to bed the night before.

It was in that instant that she knew she had to get out. She pulled on her jeans, grabbed her bag, and took a few twenty-dollar bills from Trent's pants before leaving the apartment.

One Greyhound bus and several deliberately ignored calls later, she was in West Virginia. She charged her phone in a Starbucks, called Penn to ask for a credit transfer to the local community college, pretending she had a "family emergency." Luckily for her, she hadn't completely burned all bridges. Her sister Catherine had an apartment near the college, where she was getting a teaching degree, so Joan went there next.

"Joan? Oh, thank goodness you're alright!"

Catherine threw her arms around her sister. Joan couldn't hold her tears in any longer. Eye makeup ran down her cheeks, and she told Catherine the whole story as she washed it off and showered. Joan changed into sweats, and fell asleep on Catherine's couch, her head in her sister's lap.

When she woke up, she had an email from Penn confirming her transfer. She spent the remainder of the semester working to pay her sister for rent and other expenses, going to a substance abuse group every Thursday night, and taking extra classes to make up for all the ones she had failed.

Failed. She had failed to actually live her life, to be an adult. And that pain, unlike the headaches from mixing alcohol with pills, wasn't going away, ever.


	6. Doom and Gloom

This chapter's song is "Doom and Gloom" by the Rolling Stones. Enjoy! :)

* * *

Joan woke up in a small, dirty room. For a second, she actually thought she had gone back in time. She didn't know how long she had been out, but it felt like ages. Memories of her college days floated to the front of her brain, and she winced. It was probably the painkillers.

"Hey, you're awake."

Joan blinked a few times and saw Arthur, carefully approaching her. She was looking up at him, and a quick look around told her that she was lying on a cot, covered in thin blankets.

"What happened?"

Arthur sat on the edge of the cot. His hand edged towards hers, as if he wanted to hold it. But he stopped, his fingers just an inch from hers.

"We lost Isabel, and you got in a bit of a bar scuffle. You were in a lot of pain, so I gave you some painkillers, then called a buddy of mine to get our bags –"

Joan pushed the blankets off and dragged herself off of the cot.

"You shouldn't have done that," she said angrily, searching for her boots. Arthur looked puzzled.

"What?"

"Painkillers. I'm…" She paused. "… I'm allergic to a lot of medications. Have a lot of bad reactions. But I seem fine, so…." She sighed. "Sorry."

He smiled softly. "It's okay. I didn't know, so I'm the one who should be sorry."

Joan just shrugged. "So, we lost her?"

"Yes. And for all we know, Isabel made us and called Moreau. Our things from the hotel are at London station, and I got a guy tracking our fierce stripper friend. As soon as you feel up to it, we'll go after her."

Joan nodded, and looked around the room. There was a black canvas backpack lying on the floor, and she saw her boots under it. She grabbed them and pulled them on, tying the laces tightly.

"Oh, there's an extra shirt in that bag for you," Arthur said, standing up. "I'm just going to go make sure the coast is clear."

"Okay," Joan said. She unzipped the backpack and found a soft, cerulean-blue henley shirt and a black cashmere hoodie. She peeled off her charcoal gray sweater and pulled on the henley, then the hoodie. Her leather jacket sat on the chair next to the bag.

"Where are we, anyway?," she called to Arthur, locating a tube of toothpaste. There was a tiny bathroom attached to the room they were in, and she desperately needed to brush her teeth.

"An abandoned apartment about 20 minutes from the strip club. It was the closest secure area we could get to," Arthur replied, entering the room. Joan spit into the sink and washed her makeshift toothbrush (a.k.a. her finger).

"Did you carry me here?"

He nodded. "Yep."

"Wow, thank you," Joan said, amazed. "You didn't have to do that."

"Of course I did," he said, a boyish smile on his face. "We're partners, right?"

She nodded and followed him through the doorway (with no door attached) and down a narrow hallway. Turn left, go down some creaky stairs, be careful not to step on a shard of glass… and they were on the street.

Arthur took Joan's hand and she looked down, liking the way their fingers looked interlaced. She blushed.

"C'mon," Arthur said, pulling her down the street gently. He didn't notice the pink flush in her cheeks.

They walked to the nearest bus station and Arthur pulled out his phone, showing the screen to Joan. She looked at him.

"GPS coordinates?"

He nodded. "Isabel's location, in real-time."

She grinned. "Gotcha."

xxxx

According to Arthur's coordinates, Isabel was in Belgium. They had to take two buses and a ferry, with the ferry ride from London to Belgium ending up between 12-14 hours. Joan had fallen asleep halfway through the night, and when Arthur shook her gently to wake her up, it was 3 am.

"Mhmm, are we there yet?"

Arthur handed her a cup of mediocre coffee. "Yeah. Less than an hour."

"Is she still in Belgium?"

He nodded. "Yep. A hotel about half an hour from the ferry terminal. She's probably planning her next move, maybe waiting for Moreau to come get her. Then they'll disappear to Paris, or Moscow, and we'll lose them. Lucky for us, she has no idea that we know where she is."

Joan nodded and took a sip of coffee. "Good."

The hotel wasn't seedy like the strip club, but wasn't five-star either. Arthur and Joan entered quietly, and found Isabel in a downstairs parlor, reading Elle UK. She looked much more casual than the first time they met; no makeup, hair in a long braid, jeans, leather jacket, t-shirt, and sneakers.

Arthur signaled to Joan and she nodded, then slowly walked towards Isabel.

And then it went sideways, again. Isabel looked up and saw Joan. Her eyes widened, and then she saw Arthur a few yards away. She threw down her magazine and jumped up, vaulting over the back of the chair. Joan threw her head back in frustration and ran after her, Arthur not far behind. Isabel wove through the hallways at the back of the hotel, past conference rooms, towards a glowing "EXIT" sign.

The chase went out the door; Joan went right and Arthur went left. Joan had only gotten about twenty feet when she heard a loud grunt and the sound of someone falling to the ground. She turned around and ran to the back garden, where she saw Arthur, pushing himself up from the ground. Isabel stood a few feet away, a colorful bag in her hand. It looked like she had hit Arthur with her bag, sending him down long enough for her to get away… and pull out an umbrella.

Isabel brandished the umbrella, pepper spray in the other hand.

"Get away!," she screamed at Arthur. He held his hands up in surrender.

"Isabel, we just want to ask about Jack Moreau. We won't hurt you."

"Right. Like I'm going to believe that. I take one step closer to you, and I'm fucked."

Joan was confused. "Wait, what?"

Isabel saw genuine surprise on Joan's face and lowered the umbrella.

"Wait, you guys aren't here to kill me?"

"No," Arthur said slowly. "We're CIA. We just want information."

"Oh." She tossed the umbrella to the ground and stuffed the can of pepper spray in her bag. "Why didn't you say that at the club?"

Joan shot Arthur a look. "You didn't tell her who we are?"

"Shit," Arthur murmured. He forced a laugh. "Oops."

Joan groaned, rubbing her temples. Isabel was amused.

"I have no problem telling you whatever you need to know about Jack. My loyalty to him is bought, not a product of some deep, twisted love affair."

Joan smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. "Great."

Isabel looked at Arthur.

"Sorry I hit you in the stomach with my bag."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. What's in there anyway, bricks?"

Isabel laughed and pulled out a large book with "Business Math" written on the cover.

"No, my books. I'm a student."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Thought I was just a stripper with a day job, right?"

Arthur winked. "Hey, it's your business. So, shall we talk?"

Isabel nodded. "Why don't we go get some coffee? I could use it."

Joan put her hand on Arthur's shoulder and they followed Isabel back into the hotel.

"Me too," she sighed. "Me too."


	7. Sail

This chapter's song is "Sail" by Awolnation (a band that is not only a favorite of mine, but Kari Matchett's as well!). And as an extra treat for you guys, I have news: season 4 of Covert Affairs is expected to start on July 10th! I heard this through the graepvine & it isn't official yet, but it's likely that early July will be when CA starts up again :)

* * *

By early evening, Joan, Isabel, and Arthur were back in London. Arthur didn't want to raise any suspicions by getting a third room, so Isabel was sleeping on the couch in Joan's room.

"Are you sure you don't want the bed?," Joan asked, tossing a blanket from the closet to Isabel. "I am perfectly fine with the couch."

Isabel shook her head, smiling. "No, I'm fine. Trust me, I've slept on worse."

Joan sat cross-legged on top of her bed and looked at Isabel.

"So, what are you studying?," Joan asked timidly.

"I want to be a businesswoman. Start my own company, maybe," Isabel confessed. Joan saw a sparkle in her eye.

"I grew up poor, and it was always my dream to rise above and make something out myself. Sounds – what do you Americans say? Corny? – but it was my dream."

"What about your family? Any siblings, cousins?"

Isabel sighed. "No. It was just me and my mum, and she died when I was 16."

"Oh, Isabel, I'm so sorry," Joan said, putting her hand on her heart. Isabel nodded.

"Thanks. I loved mum a lot, but she wasn't the best person in the world. But it makes it easier, right? Defecting to America?"

Joan nodded. "I guess so."

"Do you think I could enroll in a university when we get back to the states?"

Joan nodded and smiled. "Of course."

They chatted for a while longer and ordered dinner from room service. After they ate, Joan tried to offer up the bed again.

"Joan, I'm fine!," Isabel insisted, slipping off her jeans and boots. She tossed them in a pile, with her leather jacket, and climbed under the blanket in her underwear and t-shirt.

"Here, let me at least get you another blanket," Joan said. She opened the closet and pulled out another blanket, handing it to Isabel.

"Thanks," she said. She looked at Joan mischievously. "You know, if you really want, I could take the bed and you could go down the hall and snuggle with Mr. Charming Blue Eyes."

Joan blushed furiously, her eye wide. "Arthur?"

Isabel laughed at Joan's facial expression for a good 3 minutes.

"Yes, _Arthur_. God, it is so obvious. You are completely crazy about him!"

Joan didn't know what to say. Flustered, she pulled back her covers and wrapped herself in the sheets.

"Um, I think it's time to go to bed," Joan mumbled, clicking off the light. "G'night, Isabel."

Isabel smiled to herself. "Night, Joan."

xxxx

The next morning, Joan and Arthur loaded their bags into a cab and Isabel kept her head down and hid under sunglasses and a hooded sweater. Just in case, they were taking the train to Canterbury and flying out from a small private airport. Arthur tucked the women into the backseat, and then sat in the passenger seat.

Joan and Arthur shared a smile and a nod before the car started off down the street. They did this for a living, but that didn't stop Joan from getting that tight, anxious feeling in her chest.

It was only a few minutes before Joan heard the shattering of glass and immediately ducked, pushing Isabel down too. Arthur reached back and pulled his gun out of his pocket, shooting at the car behind them. The men shot again, this time taking out their driver.

"Shit," Arthur muttered. He forced his way into the driver's seat, pushing the driver's body into the passenger seat and swerving to avoid getting hit by other cars. Isabel started to hyperventilate and whimper, so Joan pulled the girl into her arms and covered her mouth.

"Shh, it's okay," Joan said. Truthfully, being shot at still scared her. But she trusted Arthur, and she needed Isabel to feel safe.

More shots went off, and Joan knew she had to get Isabel out of the car.

"Arthur," she whispered. He nodded to acknowledge her, swerving the car in a sharp left.

"We need to run."

He nodded and whispered back, "You take Isabel, run as fast as you can. You remember our emergency rendezvous spot?"

Joan nodded, then squeezed Isabel's hand.

"Isabel, we're going to make a run for it," she whispered. "Just follow my lead, and no matter what you do, _never stop running_. Got it?"

Isabel nodded, and Joan shot Arthur one last look before kicking open the door behind the passenger seat. She pulled Isabel with her, and they tumbled out onto the street. They jumped up and started to run, weaving in and out through a downtown shopping area, both dirty and with rips in their jeans.

After about 25 minutes, they slowed down and started to walk until they found a small café. Joan helped Isabel wash up in the bathroom, and then bought coffees for both of them. They sat at a back table, talking quietly.

"Are you okay?," Joan asked Isabel, a look of concern on her face. Isabel nodded, still slightly breathless.

"Do you do that all the time?"

"More than I'd like to," Joan sighed, taking a big drink of her coffee. "Arthur will meet us at a closed post office a few blocks over in an hour if he lost our tail."

"Who was shooting at us?" Joan could see the frantic fear in Isabel's eyes.

"We don't know. Most likely, some of Moreau's men. But as soon as we get back to Langley, you'll be safe. You can give my boss whatever information you have, and then the rest goes to someone with higher clearance than me and Arthur. Our job is just to get you back safely."

Isabel nodded, still processing. "Okay. Do you think Arthur's alright?"

Joan shrugged. "He's a pro, he probably fine." But inside, she was deeply afraid that something bad might have happened. She shook it off and stood up.

"Come on, let's go."

They walked to the post office, heads down and pace brisk. They got there before him, so they sat on a bench across the street. Joan checked her watch every 2 minutes, feeling like it had been hours.

Finally, she saw a man walking towards them. When she saw Arthur's face, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was all going to be okay.

As always, she spoke too soon. Arthur had just reached them when a black car pulled up. Jack Moreau climbed out of it, gun pointed at Arthur. Joan jumped to stand in front of Isabel, watching Moreau carefully.

"I don't know who the hell you are, but you've taken what's mine," he growled, clicking off the safety. "Do you know what I do to thieves?"

_Wham_. Moreau's eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped over. Joan tossed the metal garbage can she had hit him with onto the ground and dusted off her hands. She picked up the gun and checked the car, with Arthur guarding Isabel.

"Clear," she said, tossing the gun to Arthur. He caught it, pulled the bullet clip out, and tossed it a good 50 feet away. Joan grinned.

"Now, can we get the hell out of here?," she asked, sighing. "I'm really over this whole people-trying-to-kill-us-thing."

Arthur chuckled and Isabel was still gaping in shock. He put one arm around Isabel's shoulders and the other around Joan's.

"Yeah, let's go home."


	8. Mine

This chapter's song is "Mine" by Taylor Swift. Enjoy!

* * *

Joan collapsed onto her bed the second she got home. She, Arthur, and Isabel had arrived back in Virginia courtesy of the Agency plane about 2 and half hours ago. Joan and Arthur both slept the whole way home, for the first time in almost 3 days. Isabel was safe at Langley, where she would stay for a few days before going into Witness Protection. Friday was a ceremony to commend Arthur and Joan's bravery, but for now, they had a day and a half off.

"Joan?"

Joan's heart began to race and she jumped up, searching for a heavy object. And then Annie walked into her room.

"Whoa, cease fire," Annie said, holding her hands up. Joan breathed a sigh of relief.

"Annie."

She threw her arms around her best friend, hugging her for a good 5 minutes.

"Hey!," Annie laughed, hugging back. "I'm so glad you're okay!"

Joan grinned. "Me too."

"I ordered Chinese," Annie said, pointing to kitchen. "Sorry that I freaked you out, I just wanted to be here when you got home."

Joan laughed and put her arm around Annie's shoulders. "Thanks. But it's like… 3 in the afternoon. Kind of a random time to eat."

"So? Who cares? I want to hang out with my friend. And I figured we could watch some Audrey Hepburn movies, you could tell me all about Arthur…"

Joan grinned. "Of course it's a bribe. Well, I'll take it anyway, Walker."

They sat on the floor, backs against the couch, as Joan told Annie everything, with _Roman Holiday_ playing in the background. No details were left out, because Annie wanted to know everything single thing that happened every hour of the trip.

"He took you dancing?!"

Joan nodded, her mouth full of noodles. "Uh huh."

"That is so romantic. And he took care of you after you got wounded in a bar fight? Jesus."

Joan rolled her eyes and swallowed.

"I didn't get fatally wounded and let him nurse me back to health, Annie. I hit my head, he took me a safe place to sleep it off. And he gave me pain killers."

Annie went quiet.

"No, I haven't taken any since," Joan said, anticipating Annie's next question.

"Did you tell him?"

Joan shook her head. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because, I don't want to scare him off before he even gets to know me," Joan said, stuffing a spring roll in her mouth. Annie could tell that Joan didn't want to talk about it, so she changed the subject.

"Well, while you were gone – "

"Which was only like 4 days," Joan reminded her. Annie sighed.

"Whatever. While you were gone, I met someone. His name is Scott, and he works for the DCS."

Joan raised her eyebrows. "Ooh, nice."

"Yeah." Annie blushed. "He actually asked me out tonight, but I told him that you were coming home and I wanted to hang out with you, so we're going out tomorrow."

Joan widened her eyes. "Annie! You didn't need to do that, I would have been fine. He's gonna think you're into me, and not him!"

Annie bit her lip and sighed. "He was fine with it…"

"Go," Joan said, putting her hand on Annie's arm. "Call him, you know you want to."

Annie shook her head. "No, Joanie, I don't want to ditch you."

"It's _fine_, I promise. We've seen this movie like 12 times. _Go_."

Annie smiled and squeezed Joan's hand, then stood up.

"I'll see you at the ceremony Friday?"

Joan nodded. "Yes. Now go!"

Annie laughed and grabbed her purse. "Okay, I'll see you later."

"Bye."

Once Annie left, Joan got up and did the dishes, then changed into a mint-green sundress and started to unpack. She had just put her suitcase in the closet and was about to take a nap when she heard footsteps in the hallway.

"Hello?," she asked.

"Hey, Joan, it's Arthur. Can I come in?"

Joan breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah, come in," she called, sitting up on the bed.

Arthur wandered into her bedroom, wearing jeans, a black polo shirt, and a sheepish smile.

"Sorry, your door was unlocked."

"Man, I gotta remember to lock that damn door," Joan muttered. Arthur laughed, causing her to blush.

"What?"

"My friend Annie was just here, she, uh... let herself into my apartment before I got home. Scared the crap out of me."

"Oh, I know Annie. That girl knows more languages than I knew existed," Arthur said with a laugh. Joan joined in, but eventually an awkward silence set in.

"What's up?," she asked, struggling to be casual. He sighed and sat down on the bed, just a few feet away from her.

"I need to get something off my chest," he said, looking at her with those ocean-blue eyes. She nodded, clearing her throat and smoothing her skirt.

"Um, go for it."

"For the last week, I've felt this... connection between us," Arthur said. If Joan weren't so anxious, she would laugh at how cute his boyish awkwardness was. She just nodded.

"Mhm hmm."

"I mean, you are the most amazing and beautiful and kick-ass woman I have ever met," he said with a grin. Joan knew he was thinking about her kicking Moreau's ass the day before in London. "And normally, I'd have to be an idiot to not want to be with you. But your intelligence and beauty, along with the fact that you completely _mesmerize_ me, is why I've been so unwilling to make a move."

Joan was confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I am crazy about you, but I can't ruin this. You very well could be the one, Joan, and I am destined to ruin every good relationship I have. And I don't want to lose you that way."

"Arthur…"

"When we went dancing that first night, I mentioned my brother, Will - He's all I have, really. I didn't say it before, but he's my only family. He kept me from going crazy when I was young. From losing my mind."

Joan's mind was racing, and she didn't understand what was happening. Arthur was possibly in love with her, but because of that, he wanted to stay friends and not lose her?

"I know this makes zero sense," he said, seeing her facial expression. "Let me explain. My family is damaged beyond repair. My parents, they only got married because my mother was pregnant with my brother, Will. Both my parents came from affluent families, and in their community, the only respectable way to live was to come home to the wife and eat the dinner the maid cooked while the butler polished the Mercedes and the nanny put the children to bed." Arthur sounded bitter, in a way Joan had never heard anyone.

"I was the product of an affair, one that didn't come out until I was 12. My parents, they would scream at each other and throw things, but as long as the shattered china was cleaned up when company came over, no one said a word. My parents' families got involved, battles over custody and money and real estate were all I heard, and that was all before I entered high school. Luckily, Will graduated high school and took me with him. We moved out, went from Connecticut to Brooklyn. He went to college and I cut all ties with my family – I actually haven't spoken to my mother since. Fourteen years old and I erased my entire life, pretending like I never had parents. Never told any of my new friends in high school that before I met them, I lived in a big fancy townhouse. I got in some trouble as a kid, started over again in college, putting my entire life behind me once again. Will met his wife and moved to upstate New York, and I moved here after school to join the CIA. I got so good at starting over, I thought I'd make a career out of it."

"Wow, Arthur," Joan said quietly. "That's…"

"Intense?," Arthur asked. He nodded. "Yep. That's why I have a reputation for being a player – I do it on purpose. I don't get close to women, so that I can't repeat the mistakes my parents made."

"Arthur, I don't think that's true," Joan said. She hesitated, but then took his hand in hers. "You are your own person, and everyone comes with baggage."

Arthur sighed. "Maybe. But I won't chance it, not with someone who I really care about. You deserve better, Joan."

"I'm a drug addict," Joan blurted. She let go of Arthur's hand and clasped both her hands over her mouth, eyes wide. Shit. That was not supposed to come out.

Arthur looked confused more than anything else. And a bit stunned. The hot blonde girl who knew about classic rock and could punch a guy's throat into submission being a drug addict was a plot twist he did not see coming.

Joan took a deep breath. "Yeah, in college, I didn't really fit in. I fell into the wrong crowd, and suddenly, I didn't have to struggle to find myself. The pressure to define myself went away, as did every other feeling I had."

"What kind of.."

"Painkillers, mostly," Joan said firmly. Arthur gaped and she could see an apology in his eyes.

"Joan, I am so sorry. I would never have given you anything after that bar fight if I knew…"

"But you didn't, and it's okay," Joan assured him, smiling. "And, by some sort of miracle, I didn't relapse." She didn't want to say it out loud, but she was certain that it was because of Arthur that she hadn't relapsed.

"That's great," he said, finally smiling. "So you've been sober since the end of college?"

"No," Joan said sadly. "I got sober a year after I started, transferred to school in Virginia, and lived with my sister, kind of like you and your brother. But a year or so after I joined the Agency, I met a guy. We went on some pretty intense ops, one thing led to another, and he got me back on the wagon. Until 8 months ago, we were living together, in the same atmosphere I lived in during college – a smoky, cluttered room with pill bottles everywhere and a mattress without a bedframe. That shitty stuff you see in movies, where the skanky girl grabs some random rock band t-shirt off the floor and slips it on over her underwear, then pulls her messy hair into a ponytail and knocks back a few pills to get her through the morning,"

"Hey, you are not a skank," Arthur said soothingly, taking her hands in his. She laughed, but in a sort of sad way."

"I know. But I'm a mess, always have been and always will be. It's not me who deserves better, it's you. Something about me is wrong, I always end up alone. The odd one out. And I'll relapse again. I mean, it's been almost ten years since I started, and I've only been sober for about half the time. Probably less."

Arthur shook his head. "No, I don't believe it. You are strong, and you have more control than you think."

She sighed. "I don't know…"

"You know what?," Arthur said suddenly. "I do. I've never said this before, but I think I might be wrong."

"What?"

"Maybe we are a perfect fit because we both know what it's like to have baggage. To be lost."

"Oh, Arthur, I…"

Arthur shook his head and moved closer to Joan. "No, don't overthink it."

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her passionately. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave into the kiss, everything from the last week falling into place. He held her body close to his, unwilling to ever let go as he guided her down onto the bed, onto the pile of pillows. Their lips met again and again, in a different way every time, until both were breathless. Arthur rolled to Joan's side and put his arm around her. Wordlessly, Joan snuggled against his chest, intertwining her fingers with his.

They lay there for a while, neither one wanting to break the silence. Joan secretly thought that the moment she spoke, she would wake up from some heavenly dream, alone. But finally, she had to say something.

"Hey, Arthur?"

"Yeah?," he murmured. His breath blew her hair, tickling the side of her face.

"That tie you were wearing the day we… ran into each other, you said your mom gave it to you."

He nodded. "When I turned 13. It was too big for me, because she had no idea what size I was. She just picked it up at some stuffy department store without even looking twice."

"Oh."

There was silence, and then Arthur answered the question Joan hadn't voiced out loud.

"I wear it sometimes because no matter how many times I start over, I can't completely erase the past."

"Tell me about it," she whispered, settling back into his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He sighed, and they just lay in silence, consumed with a thousand thoughts each.


	9. All This Time

The last chapter! And the song is: All This Time by OneRepublic

* * *

The reception was modest, as all Agency parties are. But Joan had never been at one in her honor. More people than she knew were gathered in the star hallway, where there were usually more somber parties. But tonight was a happy celebration. They were called heroes, brave and honorable, protecting the country. Isabel was even there, and Joan had promised they could stay in touch once Isabel was relocated.

Joan was wearing a pretty lavender blouse and a gray pencil skirt, staring up at the wall of stars symbolizing every agent who died for their country. Annie was off in a corner, taking to Scott, who was rather cute. Annie had insisted she stay with Joan, but Joan assured Annie that she wanted to be alone for a moment, and sent her friend off to flirt.

Joan had only been to a few ceremonies at the Agency, but they were all similar. No alcohol, and everyone making cordial conversation. And of course, the medals she and Arthur received had been placed in the vault. But she didn't care.

"The Agency giveth, and the Agency taketh away."

Joan turned and saw Auggie, grinning and holding out a red plastic cup. Her face broke into a matching grin and she threw her arms around him.

"Auggie!"

"Hey," he chuckled. "Heard you kicked some ass in London."

She laughed and nodded. "I guess you could say so."

"Here." He held out the cup, and she took it.

"Thanks?"

"I spiked it," he whispered. "I call it an Anderson; sparkling cranberry juice with a dash of Patron."

Joan smiled adventurously and took a sip, immediately choking.

"Holy shit. That's awful."

He sighed. "Yeah. Sorry."

She laughed and wiped her mouth. As she looked around the room, she saw Arthur, standing by the window. She put her hand on Auggie's forearm.

"Hey, I have to go do something. Talk later?"

He nodded. "Go get him."

She smiled, and then made her way towards Arthur. The clicking of her nude pumps on the marble gave her away, and he turned. When he saw her, his face lit up.

"So, the parking lot, huh?," she asked casually, looking out the window. He laughed.

"It's not the London skyline, but it's not that bad. Surrounding forest is pretty."

She nodded, a smile forming on her lips. "It is."

Arthur made eye contact with her. "So, we get 2 weeks off."

She widened her eyes. "Do we really?"

He nodded. "Yep." He took her hand in his, and Joan felt a chill go through her body. But the good kind of chill.

"And I would love nothing more than to spent it with you."

She smiled at him sadly. "But Arthur, we… we can't, remember? I don't want to risk... whatever this is."

"Life is about taking risks," he said, looking into her eyes. "And what we have could be so much more."

She looked at him, her eyes full of hope. She wanted to believe it, she did. But her past kept tugging at her, warning her that within her, she had the unconscious ability to ruin all good things.

"I… I don't know."

"Joan, please." His eyes sparkled, like he already knew he could convince her. "See the world with me. We can travel without the burden of having to recruit an asset or put our lives on the line. Two weeks is enough time to experience the endless possibilities that I know we have. I might become my mother, and you may fall down the rabbit hole again. Or, you could trust me when I say that this can work, and everything is going to be okay. Better than okay."

"Arthur..."

"Shh," he said, putting his finger to her lips. His smile was like that of a little boy. Excited, adventurous, determined, and hopeful. "Just say yes."

She smiled, made a decision, and let her emotional walls take the blow. They crumbled, and she nodded.

"Yes."

He grinned, and took her face in his hands, kissing her. Those cliché fireworks went off and they kissed until they ran out of breath. Their foreheads rested against each other, and they both laugh and smiled, gazing into each other's shining eyes. Full of light and hope, and the beginnings of something truly wonderful.

* * *

I am the master of cheesy endings. Literally. Hope you enjoyed it! I have an idea bubbling in my mind for a possible sequel, so if I get enough interest in that, I might go for it. Thanks for reading this story everyone!


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